


Under Your Spell

by bainsley



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bainsley/pseuds/bainsley
Summary: Museum curator Reon Gold is enamored by his Uber driver, and he can't bring himself to stay away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Gold's name in this is pronounced "REE-un."
> 
> “Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart... Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.” - Rainer Maria Rilke, _Letters to a Young Poet_

Public transportation in New York was a nightmare.

Reon Gold much preferred walking, a habit fostered by his time strolling around Glasgow as a young lad, even under heavy blankets of rain. Walking was another primary mode of transportation in New York, but his leg wouldn’t allow him the liberty of treading through the bustling streets as often as he once did.

Yesterday had been a particularly harrowing day, Gold reflected. Not only were they behind schedule for the museum’s new exhibition, but his assistant and chauffeur Dove was away for a family emergency, slowing down Gold’s productivity. He hand’t known how heavily his days relied on Dove until the man asked for a month off and although Gold granted it to him without hesitation, he had to admit that his life was just a bit messier without the brawny man’s help.

Gold looked out his townhouse window towards the streets, an overcast sunrise at the horizon, considering his options. He could suffer through riding the subway, painfully limp all the way to work, or he could hail an overpriced and unsanitary taxi.

Another idea came to mind and Gold unlocked his phone, tapping on the new app Neal had installed for him. Uber, Neal had explained, was an app that would hail a car driven by licensed locals, making it much more convenient and reasonably priced than privately owned taxis. He was hesitant at first, unable to process how people could so freely give away their private information to a robot. Neal continued to explain that Gold needn’t worry since programmers like his own son made sure confidential information remained secure.

Reon glared at the screen, watching little lines form patterns until the map loaded. He didn’t expect very many drivers to be available so early in the morning, but to his surprise six different cars were available to arrive within minutes.

He tapped on the nearest luxury vehicle, entered his destination, and observed as the screen refreshed, revealing his driver.

Her name was Belle, and she would be driving a black 2016 Cadillac ATS, her estimated time of arrival two minutes.

He put on his black coat, grabbed his suitcase and cane, and carefully made his way to the front of the townhouse. The doorman, Killian, lifted his hat and opened the door for Gold, bowing slightly as he passed by. Gold scowled at him, despising the way he reeked of cheap body spray.

He immediately saw the sleek black Cadillac pull up next to the sidewalk, the windows tinted almost completely, which made him doubt the safety of the situation for a brief moment. Until, that is, the driver’s car door swung open and out walked a rather small brunette with brilliant blue eyes. This was Belle, then.

He damn well hoped it was, at least.

“Hey,” the girl greeted, casting him a shy smile. She had dimples, the left one just a wee deeper than the right. She wore tight blue jeans with a simple white blouse, her chestnut waves cascading down one shoulder.

“Hi,” he croaked, quickly clearing his throat and standing up straighter.

“I’m Belle!” she chirped, holding out one hand. “I’m your Uber driver today.”

He shook her hand reluctantly, wondering if it was customary for Uber drivers to jump out of their cars to introduce themselves to passengers.

“Mr. Gold,” he replied, finding her bubbly personality a strange thing to encounter at six in the morning. He was used to barking at people too irritable or fatigued to function so early on in the day.

“Very well then, Mr. Gold,” Belle mused, walking towards the back door to hold it open for him. “To the Guggenheim Museum?”

He stalked closer and stopped just as he was about to get in, the door trapped between him and the brunette. He gave her a wary glance and found that she held his gaze, unwavering yet kind. Her eyes were similar to those he so closely examined on painted mythical creatures.

“Thank you,” he muttered, quickly ducking into the car to prevent himself from looking even more stiff.

Her car smelled of expensive leather with a hint of jasmine and rose- her perfume, presumably. He watched as Belle made her way around the car, unknowingly staring at her arse as she sauntered away. He looked down guiltily when she got in and caught a glimpse of a small book tucked underneath the seat, _Letters to a Young Poet_ by Rainer Maria Rilke. Interesting.

Belle caught him looking down through the rearview mirror, and she couldn’t help but grin at his curiosity. She pressed a button to activate the meter and carefully drove into the street, licking her lips before she spoke.

“Have you read it before?”

Gold’s shoulders tensed, his head lashing up at being discovered, their eyes meeting instantly on the rearview mirror, and he could see the humor in hers. He rolled his shoulders and sat up straight, folding both hands over the golden handle of his cane, unwilling to let her throw him off. He was too unfamiliar with the bashfulness that bloomed within him at the hint of her smile.

“As a matter of fact I have, dearie,” he replied confidently, surprising himself with a broguer accent than usual.

Belle hummed in approval. “It’s one of my favorites. My mum lent it to me when I was a teenager and I still re-read it often,” she explained. “How did you come across it?”

“My son had me read it.” Gold grinned at the memory of Neal presenting him with the book as part of his birthday present.

“And what did you think of it?” Belle prodded.

“It was very interesting,” he replied monotonously, trying to figure out if he enjoyed her curiosity or was displeased by it. But the sound of her voice was soothing indeed.

He could see her raised brow, waiting for the second part to his sentence.

“Rilke answered nothing but he answered everything,” he continued haphazardly.

She didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, so she stayed silent, minding the road ahead.

He grew uncomfortable with the silence, unused to being alone in a car with a stranger. That, and, he found himself missing her accent.

“It’s heavily read by many aspiring artists, from what I understand,” he broke in.

Her eyes shot up and she nodded, pleasantly surprised to hear him talking again.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

“Me?” Gold scoffed, “I couldn’t paint if I tried.”

Belle smiled at him warmly. “Me neither.”

Wanting to keep the conversation going, and for some reason unbeknownst to him, Gold blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Your car has a nice body.” Bloody idiot.

Belle tried to bite down on her widening smile, giggling to herself.

Had he made her laugh? _Very nice._

“I mean, erm, I have a _much older_ Cadillac. And yours is new and young and… shiny,” he hastened to explain, cursing the approaching traffic that would further stall this topic of conversation.

“Thank you,” she conceded. “It’s not actually mine, though. It’s Jefferson’s, my stepbrother. He’s letting me borrow it to get to and from school and I figured I might as well use it to make a few extra bucks as an Uber driver.”

“Ah,” Gold replied.

“I’ll make sure to pass on the compliments, though,” Belle teased.

“Gods, please don’t,” he groaned in dismay.

Belle couldn’t contain her amusement and broke out in laughter at the red light, the corner of Gold’s mouth twitching up at the sound of her amusement. After a while the silence grew again, and Belle could sense the poor man trying to find something to talk about.

“It’s okay, I’m not very good at small talk either,” she disclosed.

“I find that very hard to believe, dearie,” he mused.

“And why’s that?”

“You’ve been charming enough so far,” he replied, wanting to see her smile again.

“And you’re a delightful start to my morning, Mr. Gold,” she hummed.

He couldn’t help but smile nervously at that, his heart beating just a little bit faster. What was that saying Neal used as a child? Oh, yes - he had butterflies in his stomach. Perhaps he had too much coffee.

“Please, call me Reon,” he corrected, yearning to hear her say his name.

He raised his brow at the thoughtful sound that came from Belle.

“Do you know what your name means?” she asked.

“From what I’ve been told it means ‘king’ in Celtic.”

“It could. In Maori it means ‘language,’ which I think is a funny coincidence considering I study linguistics,” she explained. “Pretty neat.”

 _Pretty neat, indeed._ He was already halfway hers and the thought of that left him speechless, unable to fill the silence in the car.

“What brings you to the museum so early? Doesn’t it open at ten?” she broke in.

“Ah, I’m a curator for the museum. We’re running behind on a new exhibition so I’m making up for lost time,” he expanded.

Her mouth gaped open, an impressed grin widening on her face.

“You’re a curator for the Guggenheim Museum? That’s incredible!” she exclaimed.

Gold couldn’t help but puff his chest at that, proud that something he did inadvertently made her so happy.

His elation quickly turned into disappointment, however, when he saw they would be arriving in four minutes. Only four more minutes with Belle. Where was the traffic when he needed it?

“H-how do you like the museum?” he asked, suddenly craving her validation.

“I like it very much,” she smiled. “I try to take my niece, Grace, as often as possible. My stepbrother likes her to be enriched with all sorts of art and history.”

“That’s good, very good to hear,” he nodded, elated that she liked his work. Gold wrung his gloved hands above the handle of his cane, fidgeting nervously to the question that was brewing in his head. He underestimated how long he had debated actually saying it out loud that before he knew it, they had reached the museum.

It was a vast, rightfully renowned building, its architecture unlike any other. Gold recalled learning that the building’s curves were designed to catch as much natural light as possible, and it was only fitting that Belle was near its presence.

She put the car in park, turning towards him in her seat, giving him that small smile that made his head go numb. She saw his eyes flick down at her lips and she smiled wider.

“We’re here, Mr. Gold,” she announced, exiting the car and making her way to open the door for him.

He reached for the handle, opening the door before she could get to it, the heavy piece of metal once again trapped between their bodies. He held onto it for extra support, needing it for what he was about to ask.

“The, ahem-“ he coughed, “if you’d like, I could give you a preview of the new exhibit. A sneak peek, if you will.”

Belle’s eyes lit up at that, and gods help him he didn’t know they could get any brighter. She had cast a spell on him, he concluded. One that had him feeling warm all over, desperate to stay near her, to tell her stories and touch her hand, to absorb and reflect as much of her light as he possibly could.

The sunrise was getting brighter and brighter, and within seconds the sky became one color, muted a bit by greying clouds.

Gold anxiously awaited her reply, shivering when she bit her lip in thought.

“I’d love to, Mr. Gold,” she answered, and he desperately wished to hear her utter his first name.

He tried to conceal his smile but found himself unable to contain his glee at the prospect of showing Belle the new exhibition, hoping she’d be impressed. Normally he wouldn’t allow anyone access apart from the team involved, but he felt that Belle’s presence and approval would make him even more proud of the exhibit.

“Call me Reon, please,” he implored. “Shall we?” He shut the door and dared offering her his arm.

She smiled wider at that, but the smile went away as quickly as it came, a thought crossing her mind.

That wouldn’t do, Gold thought. She should smile always. Maybe she was disgusted at the thought of touching his arm? He had a great awakening, then. She wasn’t into him; she had merely been acting kind, and he wanted to be upset at that, at the knowledge that she wasn’t actually interested. But if he was upset than that had to mean that he cared, and it was unreasonable for him to care about someone he had met barely half an hour ago.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she cried and he waited for the rejection that was to come. “I didn’t know you meant _now_. I have a few lectures to get to and my campus is quite a drive away, on the other side of town, so I should get going.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Just when he was about to walk away, she placed a gentle hand on his arm, a pressure hard enough to call his attention but light enough to let him leave if he so wished it.

She turned him so they were facing each other again.

“I-I wouldn’t be opposed to visiting later tonight, though, if you’re not too busy catching up with your schedule,” she continued, wringing her fingers nervously as he did just moments ago.

He would clear his whole day if he had to, if it meant seeing her once more.

“Of course,” Gold replied in relief. “Ah, erm, what time will you be here?” he asked, needing to know so he had enough time to prepare for her visitation.

“My last class is at six, and it would probably take me an hour to get here. So let’s call it seven?” Belle fretted.

“That’s perfect,” Gold promised. The museum would be closed by then, but he’d stay in his office to kill time and wait outside for her arrival once 7:00 grew nearer.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and stepped back towards her car. “I’ll see you later Reon,” she called.

He didn’t particularly like his name, but it sounded so right accompanied by her lilting accent. Speechless, he merely waved with the tips of his fingers, mustering a decent smile, though he thought hers was much more delightful to look at.

When the Cadillac drove away Gold hurried off and sauntered through the almost empty lobby. It was painted in all white, numerous levels of curved walkways creating an almost vortex-looking structure, naturally illuminated by the intricate glass ceiling above.

His all black suit was a contrast to the building’s lightness, a stark reminder to all employees who passed by not to bother the curator.

He hastily found his office and locked the double doors, unable to tolerate anyone else’s presence after just having been touched by Belle, however briefly.

Sighing as he dropped onto the chair, Gold ran a hand through his face, berating himself for being so smitten by a woman who he was _sure_ was much too young for him.

 _Not too young if she’s already in college_ , he reminded himself. Old enough to make her own choices, definitely.

She had excellent taste in literature and music, assuming the Schubert and Chopin CDs in the car were hers and not her stepbrother’s. Nevertheless if she had copies of EDM, he’d inevitably like it just as much solely because it was Belle’s.

In an effort to distract himself, Gold dove into new contracts and paperwork pertaining to the new exhibition, making sure all stipulations were to his liking and mutually benefited all parties involved.

Time went considerably slower for Gold, his mind constantly wandering back to Belle. He often busied himself with questions relating to work or Neal’s well being or the selfish mistakes he’d made in the past. Questions that often took a toll on him. But this time, his questions revolved around Belle, offering a somewhat pleasant distraction. Was she enjoying her class? How many languages did she speak? How did her accent sound in other languages? His heart fluttered a little at that, until the horror of his next question had him drop his pen.

_Did she have a boyfriend?_

Bloody hell, he didn’t even bother asking. Just assumed that she would be readily available for him. It wasn’t as if tonight was a date, though, right? Perhaps not for her, but it would be the closest thing he’d had for a date in decades. He was sure she was simply genuinely interested in the new exhibit, a college student eager to expand her knowledge.

He felt absurd, obsessing over an Uber driver. Gold filed away the papers and limped out of his office to walk around the museum for a chance to clear his mind. The man ended up spending at least four hours mindlessly wandering through the Guggenheim, the sudden crowd of visitors in the lobby pulling him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything but stare at paintings and think of Belle for the majority of the day.

Gold was unused to feeling so out of sorts, and he found himself clinging to the small amount of joy that came with thinking of her. Was this obsession, or desire? What was the difference? And would the universe do him the kindness of making it last forever? It was foolish, really, to set himself up for failure.

Even if Belle didn’t see him the way he saw her, he wished to become acquaintances with her at least. Or possibly friends, if the fates were feeling merciful. As it was, Gold decided to take a page out of Neal’s book and opted in letting the situation simply _be_ and whatever happens, happens. If he could do this for anyone other than his son, it would be for Belle.

* * *

Belle French nearly ran to the lecture hall, not expecting to be _this_ late. She had allotted enough time for her to get from the Guggenheim to NYU, and if it hadn’t been for her dazed thinking, she wouldn’t have missed all those turns.

Mr. Gold, _Reon_ , she corrected, had left her quite out of sorts. She was used to picking people up at six in the morning, but none of them were much like him.

She was used to a lot of grumbled complaints or expected silence during her early routes, understanding that a majority of New Yorkers were not, in fact, morning people. She didn’t want to let their attitudes alter the rest of her day, though, so she tried to be as tolerable as possible in the morning. If not, then she would just finish the drive and go on her merry way, moving on to a new customer or making time to study.

Belle wasn’t used to inquisitiveness from passengers since a lot of people from the Upper East Side mostly kept to themselves, unwilling or uncaring to make small talk. It was a nice change, however, to find that Mr. Gold at least _tried_. And it didn’t hurt that he was dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit.

She weaved through the stairs and groups of students, trying to distinguish if her heart raced from running or at the anticipation of seeing him again.

Belle recalled how the man first looked at her with bewildered eyes when she stepped out of the car to greet him, half expecting her to shove him in. She giggled softly at that, smiling at passing professors.

Reon Gold had short, greying hair, and he wasn’t much taller than her, which she liked. His suit was all black, save for the gold nuances in his tie clip, cufflinks, and cane handle. His eyes were so big and brown, an almost hazel that was quickly becoming her favorite color.

His accent, _oh gods_ , his accent. Belle wondered what it would be like to hear him go on and on about paintings and artifacts, yearned to see him run his long fingers through the ridges of an oil canvas. She was intrigued by him, and she didn’t know why. She had read of sirens who lured innocent passerby with their enchanting voices, and she could imagine him casting a spell over her with his heady brogue.

Belle couldn’t help but wonder just how many women he had attracted with that voice, the thought saddening her a bit. Surely he was married or in a relationship. A man like that must have already been attained, but if she could at least be his friend, that would be enough and she would put her satisfaction last.

It was awfully kind of him to invite her back, he was undoubtedly used to college students asking to gain experience behind the scenes. Mr. Gold was merely placating her, she mused half heartedly. And she hated how okay she was with that, if it meant an evening of Reon showing her around the museum. It would be the closest date she’d been on since she broke up with Will, if it even was a date. Which it wasn’t. So, really, she shouldn’t be this nervous about the whole thing.

Will had been her greatest friend and confidant, but they couldn’t make each other happy romantically. He belonged to another and she belonged, well, to her studies. Her stepbrother, Jefferson, offered tremendous emotional support for her as he was a big believer in harvesting a strong work ethic. He worked so often, however, that Grace and Belle called him mad for it. He always made time for them, though, and that’s the greatest lesson she had learned from him. _Always make time for what makes you happy_.

And as her Intro to Semantics lecture began, she couldn’t help but wonder what made Reon the happiest. As a linguist, it was her job to be analytical. She had to question everything, learn all distinctions between languages, dialects, and the history behind each one. And in order to challenge herself, she had to pay attention. Today, she wasn’t doing much of that. Not when she had brown eyes and a Scottish accent on her mind.

Instead, she asked herself if Reon was getting any work done since _she_ clearly wasn’t. Was he a morning person? Belle remembered him mentioning he had a son. Was Reon still with the boy’s mother? What was he like with his son? And oh, she ached to see that. She was sure he’d be soft and sweet, fretting over his safety. He probably read books and lullabies to him, assuming his son was still a small child.

“Miss French?” Professor Haas interrupted.

Belle’s head snapped up, pulled out of her reverie.

“Ma’am?” she coughed, her throat dryer than usual.

“What did Chomsky’s theory of language development emphasize?” she asked, irritated.

“Innate structures and biological mechanisms,” Belle replied calmly, remembering her notes from last night.

Professor Haas nodded, choosing to let her off this time. Belle sighed in relief and fidgeted with the pen cap, counting down the hours until she could see Reon again. This lecture itself would take two and a half hours, as well as her next two classes. On the bright side, she’d have time to study in between. And if she actually got down to it and devoted all her attention to the subjects, time would fly be quickly and before she knew it she’d be making her way towards the museum.

So she picked up her pen, straightened her back, and focused on Professor Haas’s presentation of Ferdinand de Saussure, willing her mind to push back the memory of the feel of his arm under her fingers.

Belle shivered. Only ten more hours.

 

Belle’s last class ended half an hour early, which gave her the liberty of going back to the apartment to change and touch up. Her roommate, Red, was already home and working on her behavioral science assignments.

“Hey Belle!” Red greeted over the rim of her aptly colored red glasses.

“Hey! How’s your assignment going?” she replied, depositing her bag of books on the nearby couch.

“It’s a pain in my fucking ass, but oh well,” Red explained, hearing Belle bustle about her bedroom.

“What are you looking for?” she called, standing to find her roommate.

“Do you remember that dress I wore for your birthday last year?” It wasn’t the fanciest dress Belle had, but she figured she’d look at least a little more put together for the evening.

“The white lacy one?” Red remembered. “Oh! It’s in my closet, I borrowed it for the sorority gathering last week,” she admitted guiltily. “I had it dry cleaned, though!”

Belle smiled, “What’s mine is yours, Red, you know that.”

They had been roommates for three years, best friends for ten.

“Whaddaya need it for? Got a hot date?” Red teased.

When Belle bit her lip and blushed, Red grabbed the smaller girl by the shoulders and stared in disbelief.

“Isabelle Rose French! You have a date! And it’s not with your textbooks!” Red exclaimed, practically dancing around the room. “Oh my god! Tell me tell me tell me! Pleaaaase tell me!” she begged.

Belle sighed acquiescently, looking in the mirror to reapply her mascara and powder her nose, trying to act nonchalant.

“I don’t think it’s a date, but it’s definitely something important to me,” she tried to reason.

“Well where are you going? And with whom?” Red prodded.

“I met this really nice man this morning. He was my first passenger of the day.” At that, Red’s eyes widened, and Belle smiled a little. “He was… enchanting, Red.”

Red flopped onto the bed, arms and legs spread on the soft duvet. “I have never, in my ten years of knowing you, heard you refer to a member of the opposite sex as _enchanting_.”

“It’s odd,” Belle continued, moving to change into her dress. “He made me feel giddy, like I was in high school all over again. Like a spell, or something. But he wore this beautiful three-piece suit, and his skin looked so soft. Gods, Red, he had a Scottish accent,” she moaned.

“He seemed sweet, and kind, and intelligent.” She remembered the moment his arm tensed beneath her fingers, and she knew at that moment that there was hidden strength under that suit of armor. “He invited me to visit the Guggenheim museum tonight, he’s curating a new exhibition.”

“So let me get this straight,” Red interjected. “He’s smart, handsome, kind, Scottish, _and_ he works at a museum.”

Belle nodded enthusiastically, turning so Ruby could zip up her dress.

“Belle, honey, I think you have to marry him,” she joked.

They both broke out into a fit of giggles, mutually elated at the prospect of Belle finding someone worth her while.

“I’m not so sure he feels the same way, though,” Belle brought up.

Red looked at her incredulously, “What are you talking about? I’m willing to put my money on the fact that he’s probably head-over-heels for you already.”

“We talked for less than thirty minutes,” Belle reasoned. “If anything, you should be trying to snap me out of this,” she laughed sadly.

“Do you _want_ me to snap you out of it?”

Belle sighed dejectedly. “No.”

“To anyone else, the whole situation might come off as dramatic or arbitrary. But Belle, you’re the most level-headed person I know. Too level-headed, if anything. You deserve to act with your heart, sweetie. So if your heart tells you to wear a white dress and rock his socks off, then do it. The worst that can happen is that you lose a good fuck but gain a new friend. And if, for some reason, it all just blows to shit, then you can take it out on me and we’ll sulk together,” Red assured.

“I guess you’re right,” Belle decided, glancing at the clock: 6:00. She hurriedly put on black stockings and a pair of black boot heels, feeling more confident with the added height.

“You’ll be fine, just be yourself. A bit of advice though, if I may,” Red offered and Belle nodded in response. “Push your limits just a little bit tonight, see where you two stand. Drive him a little crazy.”

Belle gave her a smile, double checking herself in the mirror and grabbing the keys to her Cadillac.

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Gold looked at the clock on the wall: 6:45. Belle would be arriving soon.

He straightened from his desk and opened the office closet where a mirror hung against the door. He looked surprised for a second, expecting to see his long hair. He had cut it off, though, when Neal’s five year old son stuck three different types of gum into his hair and caused enough damage to make cutting it off the only solution.

He wondered if Belle would like him with long hair. He’d grow it out indefinitely if she did.

He changed into a new shirt, deep red this time, hoping it would refresh him. He was sure he smelled like varnish after having inspected over fifty newly received paintings. Gold reached into his desk drawer and applied a small amount of cologne to the pulse points behind his ears and on his wrists, and continued to redo his tie. He had a few minutes left to make his way to the lobby, and he spent that time fretting about his appearance and possible conversation topics if there was a lull in the evening.

Gold glanced at the time on his phone: 6:59.

And just as he looked back up, he saw a familiar black Cadillac pull up in front of the building. His heart beat a little faster, threatening to make him go back upstairs and hide. On his way out he gave a brief nod to Graham, the security chief, who graciously held the door open for him.

He picked up his pace when he saw her pretty little head peek out from the driver’s side, the distance between them seeming to last for miles.

When he saw her fully, he was stopped dead in his tracks.

She changed her wardrobe, he noted. She may had been wanting to give him a heart attack after all. Her outfit was demure, innocent almost, but it lit a fire in him that spread throughout his body. Her legs looked longer in those heels, and he wondered if her stockings were being held up by garters. He almost choked at that, his pants feeling just a little bit tighter. She wore an attractive white dress, the sleeves made of lace that made him yearn to touch her.

A mythical creature, that’s what she was. A figment of his imagination after staring at paintings of whimsical subjects all day. There was no way she was real.

“Reon?” she approached.

No, she was definitely not real because that was the voice of an angel and to hear his name uttered by her was a gift from whatever gods may be.

“Reon,” Belle repeated, taking a few steps closer and damn but he could smell her lovely perfume. “Are you okay?”

He most certainly was not. His skin felt hot, the front of his trousers were tight, and he had forgotten nearly every word in the English dictionary.

“Y-yes, yes, of course,” he choked out. “You look…” _Beautiful. Ethereal_ “very nice.”

Belle bowed her head a little, and he could see the blush rising up her neck.

“Thank you,” she spoke. “I like the color of your shirt,” Belle complimented. He would wear it every day, now, and buy others like it.

Gold blushed as well, but he hoped she hadn’t noticed.

A gust of cold wind broke their trance, and he offered her his arm to get her into a warm room inside the museum.

“How was your day?” she asked, one arm wrapped around his and a hand on his elbow. She held his bicep against the side of her breast, and the feel of it made his breath quicken.

“Very busy,” he lied.

“Did you manage to catch up on some of the stuff you were behind on?” Belle asked, and he loved the sound of her voice near his ear.

Gold led her to a private elevator leading to the exhibition, and the air in the room felt heavy when the doors shut.

“For the most part, yes,” he answered, unable to answer well enough due to the tightness he felt in his chest when she stood so close to him in such a small space. Belle let go of his arm, and the loss of her destroyed him. “How were your classes?”

“They were great! Today was one of my tougher days with three classes, usually I only have one or two a day. But the thought of coming here when it was all done helped keep me going,” she admitted bravely.

He wanted to laugh and cheer, elated as he was to hear that she thought of him. _She’s not here for you_ , a nasty voice in his head told him. _She’s here for the exhibition._

“It’s very good of you to want a firsthand educational experience,” he noted.

“Educational experience?” she pondered. “Hm, well I came for a little more than that.”

“ _What?_ ” he gaped.

The elevator doors dinged open and Gold helplessly followed her out, unable to move further than that. His eyes were wide and he seemed to lean more heavily against his cane.

“I, um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. But a friend advised me to be brave tonight,” Belle began. “I like you, Mr. Gold. _Reon_. I came for you, because I wanted to see you.”

He blinked, once, and took a step closer until his nose was barely touching her hairline.

She could feel his breath against her forehead, and she couldn’t help the hand that reached up to rest on his chest. He swayed a little, weightless and intoxicated by the scent of her hair.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he croaked. “I like you, too.”

Belle smiled, unable to conceal how relieved she was to find out the feeling was mutual.

“So,” she continued, “Tell me more about this new exhibit of yours.”

“Ah, well,” he motioned for her to take his arm again as he led her to where the works of art were located. It took him a while to reorganize his thoughts, but once he did, his passion for curating was unleashed. “The exhibition will be an extension of the six Salon de la Rose+Croix exhibitions, with additional relevant documents. It’s entitled _Mystical Symbolism_ and will include about forty works and a piece from Erik Satie to convey how heavily Symbolist art was inspired by musical components and literary sources. Together, they’re meant to entrap you with the art’s spiritual essence. It’s one of the more emotional exhibitions I’ve worked on, actually. ”

“Hm, I remember studying some artists from that time period. Nineteenth and early twentieth century Symbolist art, right?” she asked.

“Indeed. Who did you study?”

“Jean Delville, mostly, but I mainly studied his ideologies and published works for an old Philosophy class,” Belle explained.

“And what are your thoughts on Mr. Delville’s theories?” he prodded, wanting to hear Belle’s thoughts on an artist so strongly related to his work.

They stopped in front of a set of locked double doors with the words _Restricted Access_ displayed in raised black font.

Belle turned and faced him fully, blue eyes boring into brown.

“ _The Idea is the emotion of the Spirit as Emotion is the reflex of the Soul,_ ” she quoted. “How could I not like that?”

Gold wanted to kiss her, then, but knew he would overstep his boundaries if he did. Instead he simply grinned, that boyish grin Belle adored so much, and unlocked the doors with a swipe of a card.

“You’re in for a treat, then, my dear,” Gold beamed.

As he opened the double doors, Belle absorbed the familiar scent of chemicals that were used to preserve paintings. She didn’t find it abhorrent, in fact she found it quite welcoming.

Gold took her by the hand and led her to an easel covered by a heavy black curtain, the tapping of their heels resonating throughout the white-walled room. He carefully lifted the curtain and revealed a stunning painting, one that looked all too familiar to Belle - _The Death of Orpheus_ by Jean Delville. It was beautiful when she saw it online, but in person it was… breathtaking. The painting looked like it was taken from a dream, difficult to define, but an answer to every question all the same.

She raised her hand to touch it, until she remembered it was the real thing and Reon might just punish her for tainting it with contact. Perhaps she _should_ touch it, then.

Suddenly a soft piano medley echoed through the room, Belle recognized it as Gymnopédie No. 1 by Erik Satie. Gold had activated the music through his phone, unveiling other paintings throughout the room as he did so.

He revealed a painting from Leonora Carrington of The Temptation of St. Anthony, a few sculptures from Antoine Bourdelle, and a few pieces from Charles Filiger. Those were the only ones Belle could recognize, but the room was filled with countless other works that seemed to come to life when Reon increased the volume. She walked through the room, absorbing the essence of each work of art, as if each had come to life and were inviting her to a place where heart ruled over thought. 

She felt like she was walking through someone else’s dream, one filled with happiness and despair and beauty all at once, the experience so cathartic she couldn’t help but tear up.

“Belle?” Gold worried. “Are you alright?”

He fiddled with his phone, trying to turn off the music and muttering expletives when he couldn’t do it.

“Ah, fuckin’ hell,” he cursed, pocketing away his phone. Gold made his way to Belle and held out his handkerchief, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in hopes that she wouldn’t bat him away. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he pleaded.

“N-no, don’t be sorry,” she hiccuped. “I’m just- this is all so _beautiful_ and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to let me in, to let me see your work before it was finished.”

He signed into her hair, “I’m very glad you like it, sweetheart.” The term of endearment rolled off his tongue before he could stop it, but she seemed not to mind it too much when she snuggled closer to him.

Belle pulled away slightly to look up at him, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw.

“Thank you for this, Reon,” she whispered.

“I should be the one thanking you, Belle,” he marveled. “Thank you for humoring an old man.”

Belle looked at him, aghast and a little hurt. “Reon, I’m not here to _humor_ you. I told you that I like you, and I meant it.”

Gold merely nodded with the belief that Belle could tell him over and over again how much she liked him and he still wouldn’t fully believe it. He was completely and irrevocably unworthy of her affections.

“Let me show you?” she braved.

Gold almost choked on his own voice. “Pardon?” he croaked.

She pressed closer, running the tip of her nose against the line of his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but I’m willing to show you just how much I like you. And maybe then you’d believe it.”

She left a soft kiss above his collar, his eyes fluttering shut as she did so.

“Come with me?” she asked.

And before he could process if she meant for that to be a double entendre, she began leading him back out to the lobby, where Graham gave the pair a knowing smile. Gold followed her helplessly, too excited by the prospect of spending more time with Belle and of what the rest of the evening might entail.

By the time they made it to the Cadillac, Belle was giddy with laughter and adrenaline, Gold just as dumbfounded as before.

“Belle?” he gulped, watching as she dragged him to the side of the car.

She seemed to be lost in thought, nibbling on her lower lip. When she saw his eyes follow her movements, she reminded herself once more to brave, and bravery would follow. “Can I kiss you, Reon?”

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, inching as close as he possibly could, the friction against his throbbing cock almost too much to bear. “Oh, _please_ , Belle.”

She moved aside and just when he thought she’d changed her mind, Belle pulled him closer by his tie until his back was pressed against the door, the cool metal making him shiver.

A small part of Belle enjoyed seeing Reon so strung up, adored how careful he was with her. But after that evening, after missing him all day, all she wanted was to see him come undone.

She stood on the tips of her toes to fill the space between them, and touched her lips to his, hearing him sigh with the soft contact.

He tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist, and Belle took that as a sign to keep going.

Belle took his bottom lip between hers and sucked, tracing the velvety inside with the tip of her tongue. He tasted like coffee and mint, and she was hooked.

Gold groaned and pressed her tighter against him, desperate to keep up with her lips and tongue. When she felt the hardness pressing against her stomach, Belle moved her hips _just so_ and Gold nearly howled, plunging his tongue into her mouth to silence his cry.

Cracking his eye open to make sure there was no one around, he quickly turned them around and held her against the door, her ass pressing against the handle. Belle could feel the weight of his body against hers as they each struggled to stand straight, when all she wanted to do was throw him down and ride him until he begged her to stop.

They stayed like that for what felt like an hour, devouring each other’s mouths with teeth and tongue, mentally tallying how many soft sighs they were able to evoke out of the other. When Belle parted to take a breath, Gold swore he’d never be able to live happily without her pliant lips against his.

She smiled at him with such reverence that he couldn’t help but kiss the tip of her nose and when that made her giggle he kissed her chin, anything to keep that sound going.

It didn’t last long, however, when Belle dodged his advances and leaned forward to press a hot, wet kiss on the pulse point under his left ear.

His hips bucked instinctively, suppressing a silent moan to the moonlit sky. He was wrecked, however, when the little vixen chose to suck an earlobe into his mouth, tugging at it with her teeth. “ _Belle_ ,” Gold growled, his hands roaming up and down her softly curved sides.

She moaned faintly into his ear and without warning cupped the front of his trousers, his heat emanating even through the layers of clothing.

“Fuck, Belle,” Gold gasped, pulling away slightly in an attempt to regain his sanity. He dragged his lips across her cheek, until they shared the same breath. “Not here, sweetheart. Let me take you home, let me make it special for you?”

Belle gave him a gentle peck on the lips. “Technically, I’d have to take _you_ home,” she panted teasingly. “We can take it slow later, but I’d really just like to fuck you now, Reon. Please?” she begged, pulling him by the lapels of his coat.

 _Later_. There would be a _later_ , and the thought of that made Gold’s skin prickle with excitement.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, “ _yes_.”

Smiling, Belle pulled him into the backseat of the car to lie between her stocking-clad legs.

Gold thanked the universe for tinted windows, although nothing could have stopped him from settling himself between her soft, warm thighs, unless Belle asked him to. This position would kill his leg come morning, but he would bare the pain for a night of pleasure.

But she only moaned in response to his erection pressing against her wet heat, her dress riding up from wrapping her legs around his waist. He couldn’t help but kiss her again, this time biting that lower lip he adored so much. His hand travelled down her body and rested above her thigh, and what he found there left him speechless. The tops of her stocking were made of lace, and they were indeed held up by garters.

With her legs spread open, he could’ve sworn he caught a whiff of her sweet musk. Gold kissed the right side of her neck, whispering into her ear how alluring he found her.

When Belle moved to fondle his straining member once again, Gold caught her hand and pinned it above her head with the other one, knowing that he wouldn’t last if she touched him there once more.

Her back arched at that, the delicate curves of her covered breasts just inches away from his mouth.

“ _Reon_ ,” she moaned. “Please. Touch me?”

His cock twitched on its own accord, his hips grinding against her core to relieve some of the tension.

The dress made it difficult to touch more of her warm skin, but together they were able to pull down the upper half until the dress was wrapped around her waist. His desperation grew as he eyed her breasts, covered by a simple yet charming skin-colored bra.

Gold mouthed her hungrily through the lace, sucking a nipple into his mouth and nipping at it teasingly. Belle raked her hands across his scalp, and he licked her until the lace was drenched with his saliva.

He pulled away slightly and blew cool air at it, watching as her nipple further tightened under the bra. He pulled down the fabric and licked circles around the taut bud, fondling her other breast with an urgent hand. She was mewling and bloody _gyrating_ under him and it took all of his restraint not to disgrace himself.

Gold wanted to take his time, to kiss every inch of her creamy skin, to nip and bite at her collarbone until she was begging for him, but he was just as desperate at this point, wanted to thrust deep into her and never get out. He knew, however, that once he’s buried in her that he’d come within seconds.

 

Belle had never felt pleasure like this, not with anyone or any thing. She was surrounded by him, his scent, that woodsy and minty smell she loved so much, his body warming her up from head to toe. Her nails clawed at the seat beneath her head, following his silent order to keep them there. All too suddenly the weight of him was gone, and just as she was about to complain, she felt his breath ghost over the wetness between her thighs and she _moaned_ , nearly bucking herself into his nose.

Belle heard her lover groan in appreciation, felt him run his elegant fingers up and down the inside of her thighs. He kissed the sides of her knees, both ends of her hips, dragging his tongue across her belly and down, towards where she wanted him most.

“Oh, gods,” Belle cried. “Please, sweetheart, pl-“

At the sound of her calling him her sweetheart, Gold couldn’t help but move directly to his new favorite place on Earth.

Belle choked on her plea as she felt him tear apart her underwear, his hot tongue searing her already heated flesh. He dragged his tongue up her slit, lapping at the juices that collected near and around her clit. She tasted like home, and he knew then that no piece of prized art could ever compare to her beauty, to her heart.

Belle scratched at the back of his neck, making him growl in return. He nibbled gently at her outer folds, laving the bites with loving sweeps of his tongue. His nose nudged her throbbing clit, and the heady scent of her had him grinding against the leather seat. He could feel her muscles tensing under his hands, knowing her release was coming soon.

Just as she was about to come, Belle dragged him back up her body, her strength belying her small figure.

Before he knew it, she had unbuckled his belt and moved his trousers and boxers down to his knees, a determined hand wrapped around his weeping cock.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he cursed, bucking into her hand. “Fuck, fuck, Belle-“

“Is this okay?” she asked innocently as she coated his cock with the precum she found there.

“Oh, fuck, yes, it’s okay,” he panted, the feeling of her pleasuring him unlike anytime he had ever had sex. “Anything with you is more than okay, sweetheart,” Gold confessed.

Belle smiled at him warmly, and she pulled him into a kiss that was different from the others they had shared that evening. It was slow, meaningful, loving. It was a kiss in which both individuals wanted, no _needed_ , to say without words just how important the other’s existence is.

“Shit,” Gold hissed. “I don’t have protection.”

“I’m on the pill,” Belle admitted, spreading her legs wider to invite him in.

Gold gave a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity would allow him to enter Belle without barriers.

Gold rested most of his weight on an elbow, slowly guiding himself into his sweet girl.

Belle could feel the moist tip of him sliding through her folds, entering her ever so lovingly, and she could feel his eyes scanning her face for any hint of discomfort. It had been a while since either of them had sex, but Belle didn’t need years of experience to know that all she wanted at that moment was for Reon to slam into her, to make sure she’d still feel him there tomorrow.

So she hooked her heels behind his arse and _pulled_ , the two of them groaning out loud at the sensation of being surrounded by moist heat.

He kissed her, then, soft lips pulling at hers, and she could’ve sworn he whispered _thank you_.

Gold was buried to the hilt, and when Belle clenched herself tighter around him, he was sure he’d lose his mind.

“Gods, Belle. You feel so good,” he moaned, pressing light kisses to the side of her throat.

He hauled his hips back and _thrusted_ , the friction too enticing to believe. Gold kept up the punishing rhythm, sounds of their flesh slapping against each other filling the car.

Belle’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, unable to stop herself from repeating Gold’s name. She could almost see the steam forming on the windows, but before she could make something of it Reon took the hand that was running through her hair and brought it down to where they were joined, his thumb drawing circles around her swollen clit.

She cried out loud, squeezing him even tighter inside her until he could barely move, and he took the opportunity to lean forward and further feast on her breasts, held up by the bunched fabric of her bra.

He thrust harder and deeper, this time rolling his hips to add more pressure to her clit, and Belle let out a series of broken moans as she came, seeing stars burst behind her eyelids. She felt her man gently cup her cheek, and she leaned into it, sucking his thumb into her mouth without ever breaking eye contact. His jaw slackened, eyes concentrated on her lips wrapped around his digit.

“Your cock feels so good, Reon,” she mewled, knowing it would drive him crazy. “You fit so perfectly inside me.”

Gold’s face crumpled in desperation, willing his body to hold on just a little bit longer. But with Belle whispering filthy things in his ear, having her cunt wrapped so tightly around him after an orgasm, and knowing she loved it just as much as he did, Reon _howled_ , his thrusts frantic and uneven as he spilled himself inside her.

His orgasm seemed to go on forever, and Belle’s soothing hand across his back only seemed to fan the flames.

Soon enough Gold felt his cock soften and slip out of paradise, and his exhausted body fell forward to rest between Belle and the leather seats. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her closer until they were nearly eye level, the pair of them panting and sweating.

“Wow,” she breathed, moving to undo his tie to let him breath more easily.

Gold pressed a kiss to her cheek, “Indeed.”

He had no words, really, to describe how he felt at that moment. Neither did she, which was why they were content in lying there to bask in the afterglow of making love, wanting to preserve that night for the rest of their lives.

“So,” Belle interrupted. “Are we still on for later?”

Gold chuckled and tickled her side, sealing his approval with a kiss on her lips, and by gods, she was even sweeter than before. Later he would take his time, make her feel just how lovely he found her. He would make it his life’s mission to make sure she felt cherished.

Gold still had a lot of questions on his mind, but this time none of them were about work or the anxieties of a perpetual future of being alone. He always believed that those questions would answer themselves if he dedicated himself to working and to being a father. But now they were more along the lines of wondering if she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. Gold loved selectively, but he loved fiercely, and if he had to pace himself to keep her, he would. Would their time together last longer than just this evening?

 

And as she laid a hand to his rapidly beating heart and kissed the underside of his jaw, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, all the voices inside his head quieted down. And rightly so, because the answer he had been searching for all these years lay next to him, with her too-blue eyes and unruly chestnut curls.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder how Jefferson would feel if he found out Belle had hot sex in his car. 
> 
> Just a few things that I'd like to acknowledge:
> 
> * I'm horrible at getting right to the smut, sorry. 
> 
> * Professor Haas was named after the highly acclaimed female linguist and anthropologist, Mary Haas. 
> 
> * I'd like to give credit where credit is due as I am in no way an art history buff. I drew Gold's exhibition from an upcoming one at the Guggenheim, so in no way was Gold's idea my own. A majority of the information I retrieved is from the museum's website, along with independent research I did on other artists. The exhibition I described in the fic was organized by Vivien Greene, the senior curator, with the assistance of Ylinka Barotto. During the process of outlining this fic I wondered which museum Gold would work at. I was going to make up some fake one, but I remembered really enjoying my time at the Guggenheim last month and thought it'd be fun to associate him with that experience. 
> 
> * I tried to have some connection between the museum and Belle, since those two end up becoming really important to Reon. In each scene, Belle wore white and Gold would constantly reference her bright light. This is similar to how the museum is painted white inside and out, the building itself designed to reflect and absorb as much light as possible. Since the museum, for years, had been such a positive and meaningful place for Gold, I wanted him to find that certainty both in and outside his work bubble. 
> 
> * I wrote this to "Under Your Spell" by Desire, their lyrics inspired some of the things Gold thought about after first meeting Belle. I also imagined them having sex to this song, for some reason. Although if you listen to it/look at the lyrics, I'm sure you'd figure out why. ;) 
> 
> * Belle's dress: http://www.forever21.com/images/default_750/00202033-02.jpg  
> * Death of Orpheus painting: https://www.guggenheim.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/art-jean-delville-death-of-orpheus-X.2014.433.jpg
> 
> * Chapter 2 of Four Phases will be up by the end of the week. 
> 
> \- B


End file.
